Of Mistletoe And Christmas Carols
by E Salvatore
Summary: Olivia has spent Christmas with the Bishops for as long as she can remember. She knows to expect spiked eggnog and pudding, sleepovers and breakfast. But this year, now that Peter's home and they're together, things might shape up a little differently. Fourth in the 'Eggnog' series.
1. Chapter 1

**OF MISTLETOE AND CHRISTMAS CAROLS**

**Summary : Olivia has spent Christmas with the Bishops for as long as she can remember. She knows to expect spiked eggnog and pudding, sleepovers and breakfast. But this year, now that Peter's home and they're together, things might shape up a little differently. Fourth in the 'Eggnog' series.**

**Disclaimer : Okay, I've always wanted to do this one but never did for some reason, so here it goes – no copyright inFRINGEment intended. Ha! Get it? We're so punny, Fringies.**

* * *

**Of Mistletoe And Christmas Carols**

**One : Joy To The World**

* * *

"Good morning."

Her eyelids slowly flutter open as Peter sets down a breakfast tray on the bed and shoots her a smile.

"Hey," She croaks, her voice just a little too dry. There's a pause as she waits to see if the nausea will hit her but nothing happens and so she smiles tiredly before lifting herself up into a sitting position. Peter tries to help but she has her back against the headboard before he can even let go of the tray. She's still trying to prove that pregnancy doesn't make her an invalid.

"What's with the room service?" She teases with an appreciative smile as he climbs in next to her and brushes a few stray strands of light hair behind her ear.

"I figure we could use some time off. Besides, it's Christmas Eve." She tries not to grimace; Peter is being very, very sweet and he is right to smile about Christmas Eve, but they both know that the real reason for this is the fact that they'd been called into a crime scene yesterday evening and Olivia had spent the entire night crouched by the toilet bowl afterwards.

"What time does Elizabeth want us over?" She asks casually instead of trying to reject this. Olivia is allowed to be independent and Peter is allowed to be sweet. It's a careful compromise full of assessing situations and actions and determining what's too much, but it's working for them.

"She said any time's good," He watches as she downs an entire glass of water and checks subtly for signs of dehydration. Finding none, he smiles and continues. "But she doesn't really need us over until seven."

"Okay," Olivia nods and begins to pick at her toast. Peter frowns at her blank stare, knowing just where her thoughts are.

"No, no, no." He shakes his head, drawing her attention. "You are _not _going in to work." He stresses with a serious look, trying to sound firm. He hasn't denied her anything in a long while or even given her direct orders but it's Christmas Eve, she's running on (barely) two hours of sleep and their baby seems hell-bent on making her mommy as sick as possible.

"Peter, it's only-"

"It's already eleven, sweetheart." He points out, knowing that she was just about to protest that it's still early and she'll be in and out with plenty of time to spare. Her eyes widen and she stares at him.

"What?"

He grins and shrugs nonchalantly. "You can check the time if you want to." She does, reaching over to glance at her alarm clock. The room is left in dumbfounded silence. He grins, knowing that she hasn't slept in this late for years. Even as a child, Olivia would always be the first one up. She was never the kind to ask for five more minutes or to sleep in during the summer. Peter would join her once a year, on Christmas morning, but other than that he'd grumbled and teased her about her sleeping habits constantly.

"Oh." Olivia finally states flatly. He's glad it's not an accusation for letting her sleep in, but they both know she needed it.

"The case will still be there after Christmas, Liv." He says gently, trying to coax her into slowing down. "You're allowed to take two full days off."

She shakes her head wordlessly, knowing that Peter's made up his mind. "So you want me to stay in bed all day?" She challenges him – he knows how she gets when she has nothing to do and nowhere to be.

"Just until six." He corrects with a triumphant smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Just catch up on sleep, 'Livia. You'll need it for tonight."

Olivia's lips curve into an amused smile. "You've already knocked me up, Bishop. I hardly think that's necessary."

He laughs and picks up the morning paper before turning to her. "Hardly what I was thinking about, sweetheart, but we'll see."

She doesn't have the heart to tell him that there's no way they'll be doing anything tonight because she's pretty sure Walter, eager matchmaker and excited grandfather-to-be, will have his ear pressed up against the door all night.

* * *

"Peter, have you seen my-"

"Other shoe?" Peter leans against the doorway, holding up the left side of her flats. She sighs gratefully and smiles.

"Do I even want to know where it was?" She questions lightly, crossing the room to pluck the shoe out of his hands.

"Somewhere," He shrugs. "I don't tend to keep track of where exactly your clothes land after I take them off." After almost a year of living with him, she's gotten pretty used to comments like these and hardly even blushes anymore, but memories of how she had basically attacked him the very second he had shut the front door behind them two nights ago cause blood to rush to her cheeks as she averts her gaze and focuses on slipping on her shoes.

Peter remains at the doorway, leaning against it casually as he watches her go about her usual routine until she announces that she's done, picking up a bag. He beats down the over-protective, extreme part of him that wants to ask if the bag is too heavy and offer to carry it, trying to apply some logic to the situation. Really, if this is how he's going to act now, he doesn't even want to imagine what the next few months will bring. And once the baby is here? Christ, he'll be on full-on crazy guy mode, hovering nervously around Olivia and their child at all times.

He shakes off these troubling thoughts and holds out a hand to Olivia, focusing instead on the way just holding hands with her can make him smile. It still feels like a dream sometimes, being here with her, being in love with her, starting a family with her. After ten years of telling himself that this would never happen, that he should be content with one day of Olivia every year, this is all just a little surreal. He's told her that before, shyly admitting that sometimes he's scared he'll wake up and find that they're still stuck with their previous arrangement, which had its perks but left a lot to be desired in the way of a proper relationship.

Olivia accepts his hand with a smile and they make their way out of the apartment and into the car where she wordlessly slips into the passenger seat, obviously trying to maintain their take-and-give compromise.

It's snowing lightly as he pulls out of their street and heads for their childhood home. Olivia looks out of the window, keeping an eye on vacant houses as she tends to do these days. He doesn't think she even realizes it most of the time. He doesn't really mind; after all, he'd been the one to bring up getting a home together in the first place and they _are _working on a deadline right now, so they've both agreed on a move. Now if only they could agree on a location…

"Is there anything near Walter and Elizabeth?" She asks suddenly, taking him by surprise. They've stopped at a light so he turns to look at her; she's still looking at houses and had apparently spoken absent-mindedly.

She turns around after a few seconds, having felt his eyes on her. "I think it would be nice," her lips curve into a shy smile. "To be close to them."

They're both aware of what she's doing and why. Walter had decided, prior to them even announcing Olivia's pregnancy, to have them move back in with him and Elizabeth. He wanted his entire family under one roof and had grown so excited over the idea until Peter's mother had pointed out the flaws in his plan, trying to keep him grounded to reality as usual. But this is Olivia applying their compromise to a different part of their lives, a bigger part. She's trying to make everyone happy and to keep their family together and God, he loves this woman.

He reaches out and laces their fingers together, holding her right hand in his securely. "Okay," He finally says with a warm smile. "We'll look."

She nods, just once, before turning to look out of the window once more. He replaces his hand on the steering wheel when the light turns green and they slip back into silence with smiles on their faces until he speaks up.

"Have I told you how amazing you are?"

* * *

"Peter!" Walter booms, wandering out of the kitchen with an apron around his waist and a dishcloth in hand. He pulls his only son into a warm embrace before doing the same with Olivia and leads them into the kitchen.

"Elizabeth, look who's here!" He beams, getting his wife's attention. She looks up from the tiny desserts she had been bent over and her eyes light up when she spots Peter and Olivia, moving to greet them in the same manner her husband had.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here." She smiles warmly at Olivia, holding her close. "Peter told me you-"

"Hey, Mom, what are these?" Peter blurts, pointing randomly at a plate of appetizers. Elizabeth gets the message and quickly drops whatever it is she had been saying as Olivia's eyes narrow just the slightest bit. She can guess what Peter had told his mother. She sighs heavily; honestly, she's trying to be okay with all of this. She just doesn't want Peter getting all concerned, or Elizabeth, or _Walter_, who would probably have a full-on panic attack and come up with some weird experiment every single time he hears of her and the baby feeling less than perfectly fine. Not that his son has been any better recently; Peter's been acting so weird that she sometimes wonders if he's subjected himself to a few weird experiments of his own.

"Do you need any help?" She offers kindly as Elizabeth pulls out yet another tray of gingerbread men. She smiles fondly, thinking of childhood Decembers long past when these were all she looked forward to: gingerbread men and Elizabeth's hot chocolate, though Walter always made it better.

"Oh, no, darling. Why don't you go sit down in the front?" Elizabeth suggests kindly. "Guests will be arriving soon and you can let them in." Olivia puts on a smile and nods, making her way to the living room where she sits down and waits for the bell to ring. Elizabeth is just like her son, it would seem. She knows that in the kitchen, both older Bishops will be bustling around preparing food, and Peter will be single-handedly carrying all of the food out, making a least a dozen trips. She could've helped but of course they sent her out to sit down.

And when the first of the guests arrives and the bell chimes, Peter calls out that he'll get it in a minute, telling her to stay still. She scowls and shoots to her feet, almost childishly trying to beat Peter to the door. She does, and shoots him a triumphant grin as her fingers curl around the doorknob, opening the door to greet their oldest neighbor, Mrs. Grantham. The woman she'd spent summers talking to pulls her into a hug and Olivia gingerly returns it for two seconds, waiting for the woman to release her. She's been getting better about human contact these days, mostly thanks to the Bishops and Astrid, but it's still somewhat foreign to her after a decade of shying away from nearly everyone.

She ushers Mrs. Grantham into the living room and catches sight of Peter just before he slips back into the kitchen, shooting her a fond, resigned smile. She's on door duty, then.

Olivia – 1, overprotective Bishops – 0.

* * *

"Astrid!" She exclaims warmly, pulling the woman in from the cold. Her friend reaches out and hugs her for five brief seconds, well aware of her struggles with being held.

"Merry Christmas, Liv!" Astrid smiles brightly, setting down gifts on the table Walter had cleared for just this purpose. There are boxes and bundles neatly wrapped up sitting under the tree, but those are just for the family, Walter had explained.

"Where's your Prince Charming?" Astrid asks teasingly, taking in a sea of unfamiliar faces. It seems like Walter's invited more than his usual guest list this year and she can only hope that nothing bad will come from this.

"_Peter_," Olivia corrects firmly. "Is with Elizabeth in the kitchen. They're trying to figure out which batch of eggnog Walter spiked."

Astrid laughs and leads the way to the kitchen. "The fact that you can say that with a straight face and neither of us finds it weird anymore proves just how far we've come." She points out just as they run into Walter, who envelopes Astrid in a bear hug and calls her Absinthe.

"Astrid," Elizabeth smiles warmly when they finally make their way into the kitchen. "It's so nice to see you, dear." Astrid smiles and gives the Bishop matriarch a friendly hug before wishing her and Peter a merry Christmas.

"How's it going?" Olivia asks, pointing out the two trays of eggnog-filled glasses. Peter shrugs as Elizabeth looks amused.

"They both taste the same," He tells her before Elizabeth laughs lightly.

"Guess we'll have to go with trial and error then," She decides before picking up a tray and walking out of the kitchen. Peter follows her lead and the girls trail behind.

"This is not going to end well." Astrid predicts in a hushed whisper as both Peter and Elizabeth start handing out drinks.

"Ooh, eggnog!" Walter exclaims in delight, hurrying across the room for a glass of his own.

"No," Olivia agrees grimly. "No, it won't."

Walter quickly downs his drink and reaches for another.

* * *

"Dearly beloved," Walter calls out an hour later when Peter and Olivia are curled up on the couch and Peter groans.

"What now?"

Olivia laughs at him but feels the exact same way… only worse when Walter points them out.

"We have gathered here today because I have some _wonderful _news to share." He beams proudly. "My son, that's Peter right over there, and Olive, there, right next to him," Walter pauses for added anticipation even though he looks like he just can't keep the news in any longer.

"-are expecting!"

It takes the assembled crowd two seconds to respond with cheers and clapping, and Mrs. Grantham is the first to come up and pull both of them into a tight hug with repeated congratulations.

Peter and Olivia plaster on smiles and suffer through a long line of well-wishers until Walter clears his throat… sounding suspiciously loud.

That's when the couple looks up to find Walter standing by the old TV, microphone in hand.

"And to celebrate," He announces grandly, his voice booming.

"Let us sing!"

* * *

**Christmas karaoke, anyone?**

**One chapter down, two more to go! I think. In the meantime, check out **_**Celebration **_**if you want some Etta and keep your eyes open for an untitled Walter special. Feedback is always welcome and did you know that reviews count as Christmas presents?**

**Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Festivus!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**December 2012.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Of Mistletoe And Christmas Carols**

**Two : Where The Lovelight Gleams**

* * *

It takes all of five minutes for everyone to come around to the idea of Christmas karaoke; even Astrid has signed up for a round of _Jingle Bells_. Peter, Olivia and Elizabeth quickly escape to the kitchen just as the opening lines of _Frosty the Snowman _reach their ears, accompanied by a chorus of spirited voices.

"Well, that was embarrassing." Peter states flatly as he looks at Olivia, speaking for the both of them. Her cheeks are flushed, a residual blush from Walter's little announcement lingering in her complexion. She nods in agreement as Elizabeth laughs and sets down two plates of chocolate cake on the kitchen island where the three of them have gathered around.

"Oh, humor him," She smiles brightly. "Walter's just a little excited and I must say, so am I."

"We know, Mom." Peter tells her as he digs in, having waited all year long for his mother's special Christmas chocolate cake. Across the table, Olivia does the same. Elizabeth watches them fondly, the way she always does when they do something that mimics their actions as children.

"First grandchild and all that," Peter adds after downing about half a slice.

"Yes, this little one's been a long time coming." His mother smiles with a hint of excitement in her eyes as she places two glasses of milk on the table, her way of telling Peter to slow down. He catches the message and shoots her a boyish smile before gobbling down the rest of his serving. Olivia, who's only just gotten halfway through, pushes her plate to Peter. He shakes his head with a smile and pushes it back.

"You've got to eat now, Liv. Can't deprive the little Bishop of chocolate. That would just be mean." Olivia is just about to form a protest when Elizabeth squeaks out a tiny 'oh', causing both of them to turn their attention to her.

"It's just," Elizabeth smiles sheepishly, her eyes suspiciously bright. "You're calling her Bishop." Olivia suppresses the urge to roll her eyes; she's only seven weeks along but everyone insists the baby is a girl. She'd gone through some of the Bishop/Bishoff family trees with Peter a few days ago and had pointed out that there hasn't been a Bishop girl for five generations, but Peter had simply smiled and said something along the lines of _when do we ever go with the flow_? And so it was decided that she's carrying a baby girl.

And then Elizabeth's words sink in and she blurts out a question before she can even think it through. "Of course she's a Bishop. What else would we call her?"

Peter grins triumphantly at Olivia's subconscious acceptance of the baby being a girl and turns to his mother, waiting for her answer. Truthfully, he's quite puzzled too. Their baby being a Bishop seems like a given.

"Dunham?" Elizabeth supplies promptly. "It's just… I know people in your situation, Olive, and some of them… well, they end up giving their children their own names."

"My situation?" Olivia quotes curiously. Blood rushes to Elizabeth's cheeks, tainting her skin a shade that even Peter has never seen before. His mother does not blush. It is simply the way of things.

Finally, she speaks up although her eyes remain fixed over Peter's shoulder, on the wall where a tile has been chipped.

"Unmarried."

"Oh." Olivia breathes, taken aback. Peter almost groans out loud.

_Thanks, mom._

"No, no, it's not a bad thing!" Elizabeth hastily explains herself. "I'm not condemning you and this family… well, we're far from traditional or anything of the sort. Walter and I are perfectly fine with this. We were just… concerned. About the baby." She finally meets Olivia's eyes and smiles reassuringly. "Everything is perfect, Olivia. We're alright with this, we really are."

Olivia nods with a strained smile but Peter can tell that the more his mother speaks, the more she doubts her words. It's not that she thinks Elizabeth is lying, simply that his mother is now bringing to light a whole can of worms that they hadn't even realized existed.

So he gets up from his chair and crosses the room to Olivia's side, helping her out of her chair. "It's okay, Mom. We know you're okay with us. 'Livia just gets tired sometimes."

He sounds perfectly pleasant, with a smile to boot, but his eyes, hidden from Olivia and fixed on his mother's, beg her to just let them go. She hesitates before nodding just once and he exhales in relief.

"C'mon, sweetheart, let's get you away before they start with _Rudolph_." He teases as he supports Olivia, referring to the singing that's still going on in the main part of the house.

For once, Olivia doesn't put up a fight and allows Peter to lead her away, stopping only to flash a small smile at Elizabeth. "She's your granddaughter, Aunt Elizabeth. A part of the family. I would never take that away from you."

Elizabeth smiles as her eyes swim with tears. "Thank you." She says, sounding choked up. Olivia nods and with one last smile, she lets Peter walk her out of the kitchen. Elizabeth watches as they leave, presumably to hide upstairs. She remains in the kitchen, leaning against a counter for support as she tries to compose herself. Walter barges in a few moments later.

"Oh, Elizabeth, you must join us for-" He comes to an abrupt stop when he notices his wife's present state and quickly crosses the room. "What's wrong, dear?" His eyebrows furrow in concern as two hands come to rest on her arms.

She shakes her head and smiles brightly at her husband. "Oh, Walter," She sighs happily. "She's a Bishop. She's going to be a Bishop."

"Olivia?" Walter exclaims excitedly, his smile growing to match hers. Elizabeth briefly considers correcting him but she just knows it's only a matter of time.

"And the baby." She nods.

"This is wonderful news!" Walter announces with a laugh, engulfing her in a hug. "Wonderful news! This is the best Christmas ever!"

* * *

"At last!" Peter exclaims with exaggerated relief as he shuts the door behind him, leaving them in isolated peace and quiet.

"My head was pounding." Olivia agrees with a grimace, sitting down on Peter's old bed. He settles in next to her and turns to her with concerned eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me, Olivia?" He chides, wrapping an arm around her to pull her closer as she rests her head on his shoulder.

Olivia sighs contentedly and closes her eyes. "It was nothing," She claims dismissively. "It's already going away."

"If you say so," Peter mumbles into her hair, trying to quell his concern. Olivia nods and they lapse into silence, both unsure of what else to say when they're so blatantly avoiding a subject. They've never been big on words, really – sure, they could spend entire afternoons talking to each other about their hopes and dreams and fears and nightmares, but they're equally comfortable just sitting together in silence. Or they usually are, anyway. Peter decides that this awkward silence is just ridiculous and decides to broach the subject.

"So… I guess we're officially living in sin." He jokes nervously, earning himself an amused chuckle.

"What would the neighbors say?" Olivia mocks in a scandalized gasp. She shifts and moves away from Peter to look him in the eyes.

"You knew though, right? You knew I would never have done that to you." She says firmly, because he should have known, he should know, that she would never do that to him. To them. She knows why single mothers give their babies their names. Protection. Insurance. If anything ever goes wrong, at least they won't lose their children. And this may sound naïve and childish and just plain stupid, but she doesn't believe she'll ever need insurance against Peter. Yes, there might come a day when for whatever impossible reason, they're not dying to spend every last second together; a day when they would willingly give _this _– them – up. But she and Peter are more than a couple, or lovers, or anything a usual pair would be labeled. She's known Peter since she was eight. He's been her friend, her rock, her anchor, her partner, her everything. And she's done her best to be there for him at every turn. The bond that they have – it doesn't just go away. It doesn't go away, period. She knows it and Peter knows it and so she really, really hopes he hasn't spent the last month secretly worrying about her denying their child his name.

Peter smiles softly, the kind of smile she's only ever seen him use with her, and nods as he brings one hand up to cup her cheek. She places her own over his, assuring herself that of course Peter knows, of course Peter understands.

"I know." He says simply. "I know you would never do that to me, or my mom, or Walter." He leans in closer, one hand still holding her eyes in place so that they don't waver from his own. "And I also know," He gulps softly, a motion that she shouldn't have noted but does, because she sees everything when it comes to him. And then he speaks and his nervousness makes sense as everything falls into place. "That we're forever, Olivia."

_Forever_ is a word they haven't used in a long time. When they were small, they used to think that they could hide away from the world forever. He wouldn't have to face his mother's bad days and she wouldn't have to face the monster she called her stepfather, and he wouldn't have to sit through Walter's experiments and she wouldn't have to work so, so hard just to keep the people around her alive. They would just hide, in that field of white tulips, forever.

And then they grew up and they realized that things change, life happens, people die – nothing is forever.

Except them. Peter and Olivia. Time and time again, they've beaten the odds. He was supposed to die but he didn't. She was supposed to be kept away but she wasn't. They were supposed to be separated but they weren't. He left her but then he came back. She pushed him away but then she let him in. And somehow, twenty-odd years later, they're still those two kids, in a white tulip field, sitting in a patch of scorched grass as they stare at the moon, somehow – inexplicably, impossibly, irrevocably – linked. And she can't see them ever being anything else. They're forever, they really are.

"I want to be with you every day of my life. I want to wake up with you and go to sleep with you. I want to spend every moment in between with you, and live with you, and raise babies with you, and grow old with you. I want you forever, 'Livia."

She wants to cry because even years after everyone had stopped calling her a freak and the Bishops had given her a normal life, she'd never envisioned this for herself. She went to school and became an agent and she saw her whole life ahead of her, early mornings and late nights and protecting people and being lonely. And here he is, this perfectly imperfect man, who drives her crazy and pushes her too far and knows all the worst parts of her, who wants to live with her and build a family with her and die with her, and even then it won't be the end because they're forever.

He studies her, takes in every last detail of the way her eyes swim with tears and her breathing hitches irregularly like a sob has blocked her throat and her lips quiver with hesitation and being overwhelmed and he knows, he just knows – not now. Someday, but not now.

"Plus I really, really want you to make an honest man out of me." He jokes with his eyes closed and his forehead pressed against hers, and she laughs until it almost sounds like a cry of relief.

She surprises him; she always does.

"Yes." She states so confidently, so powerfully that he pulls back immediately and gapes at her. She laughs and cups his face in her hands, keeping his eyes on hers. "Yes, I'll make an honest man out of you." She grins and it's infectious, and before he knows it they're both laughing and crying and holding onto each other for dear life.

Finally, they settle down and catch their breath, eyes shining with joy and adoration and love and he holds her close because this is it, he gets to keep her and make her laugh and love her.

He gets to _marry _her, only they haven't discussed that part yet.

And suddenly it's all wrong.

"So…" She speaks just as his mind starts racing a hundred miles a minute, pulling away to shoot him a smile. "We're…" She can't say it, can't get the word _engaged_ past her lips because damn it, he's messed up again.

"No," He shakes his head resolutely, hastily explaining himself before she can feel hurt. "Not this way, 'Livia. I've already messed up so much and you deserve better. This time, I'm doing it right. I promise you I will, just not now, not like this, not because my mother brought it up and we decided _what the heck_."

She studies him for a brief moment and nods. "Okay." She says casually, simply.

"Okay?" He breathes incredulously. She smiles and laughs softly, reaching for his hand.

"Okay." She repeats confidently before elaborating. "I know you need this, Peter. I would be fine just making it official right here, right now but it wouldn't be right. And I trust you to get it right so… okay."

He surprises her by crashing his lips to hers, pulling her back to him and holding her in place by her waist. She brings her hands up and links them at the back of his neck, clinging to him as he chuckles into their kiss.

"What?" She pulls away, sounding amused. He smiles and keeps his arms wrapped around her waist, seemingly studying her for a few seconds before speaking up.

"You amaze me." He confesses and she smiles, ducking her head and resting it against his chest.

"I love you." She sighs happily because there is nothing else to say, and he pulls back to tilt her head up and capture her lips with his once more.

They don't go back down to the party.

Luckily, Walter is too occupied singing _Jingle Bell Rock _for the fourth time to notice.

* * *

**So this one's for all of you Polivia people, especially **_**amynoemi**_**. I'm sorry, sweetie! Polivia makes me suffer too, making me wait to see where they're going! They just took their time with this chapter. Let's hope they hurry up with the next one; it's the last.**

**The title is a line from **_**I'll Be Home For Christmas**_** and was chosen because I had no other what else to pick, basically. And it seemed fitting… sort of.**

**As usual, reviews and thoughts are much appreciated and will keep me warm this winter now that I've run out of hot chocolate.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**December 2012.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Of Mistletoe and Christmas Carols**

**Three : Merry Christmas, Peter**

* * *

She wakes up to a white world and muted sunlight, sore limbs and extreme bliss, the suffocating heat of Peter's entire body pressed against hers and his hand on her waist, keeping her prisoner.

For a minute, just a minute, this Christmas morning could be like any other one she's had for the past ten years, the morning after she's just spent the night with Peter, her best friend who's only in town for a night.

And then the nausea hits her and she forcefully jumps out of bed, flinging Peter's hand off as she claps a hand to her mouth and runs out of the room, across the hall and into the bathroom. Peter is ten seconds behind her and just in time to hold up her hair.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth walks in to find Peter rubbing Olivia's back in a circular motion as she presses her palms against her eyes, lingering for a few seconds before she gets to her feet slowly and moves to the sink.

"'Morning," She smiles weakly as she catches sight of Elizabeth in the mirror that stands above the sink.

"Merry Christmas." Elizabeth says softly, empathizing with Olivia's condition. "I know just the thing to make you feel better." She shares, drawing their attention.

"We'll be down in ten," Peter tells his mother, knowing that Olivia is going to need a while to compose herself. She had been fairly lucky at first, suffering little to no nausea at all, but the past three weeks have seen morning sickness attacking her with a vengeance. Thankfully, it seems confined by the limitations of its name, often leaving her alone by the end of each morning. Except for when they get called to crime scenes, as evidenced by her spending the entire night up two days ago.

Elizabeth nods understandingly and pads down the hallway, disappearing into her room. Peter waits for Olivia to wash up and does the same as she leans against the door, eyes closed as she regulates her breathing.

They climb down the stairs together and find a table of breakfast food waiting for them. "Bacon cures morning sickness?" Peter asks skeptically as they sit down. His mother turns around with an amused smile and sets down a plate of toast for Olivia.

"No, but I didn't think Olivia would want to have Red Vines on an empty stomach."

Olivia almost chokes on the water she's chugging down.

"Red Vines?" Peter sputters incredulously. Olivia's wide eyes indicate her state of shock.

"Oh, I suppose any sort of licorice would do the trick, really. But that's all we have right now, and it's what worked for me." Elizabeth brandishes a jar of the familiar red treats, setting it down in front of Olivia as she nibbles on her toast while Peter helps himself to a big serving of bacon.

Walter pads down the stairs just as Olivia unscrews the lid of the licorice jar and removes a single piece as everyone looks on curiously, even Walter who has yet to say a word. Ever so slowly, hesitatingly, Olivia brings the licorice closer to her mouth. Her features form a grimace as she takes a bite out of the familiar treat, before she can even taste it.

And then nothing happens.

The Bishops watch as Olivia slowly chews on her licorice, looking almost contemplative. No one makes a sound. She takes a sip of water. Nothing happens. She takes another bite, then another, and her lips curve into a smile.

"I'm good." Olivia announces and is met with three very relieved sighs and an extra-wide grin from Peter, who is already thinking of late mornings spent in bed without anywhere to go, not work or his parents' or the bathroom; nice, slow hours of the earliest part of the day spent quietly without the love of his life running away to be miserable every hour or so.

The third sigh draws attention to their new addition and three heads quickly snap to Walter, who stands in the doorway in a robe and bunny slippers.

_Just _a robe and bunny slippers. That the robe is untied goes without saying.

"Walter!" Elizabeth gasps, equal parts horrified and scandalized as Olivia turns away, dropping the Red Vine she had just picked out. Walter himself remains motionless except for his features which twist to form an expression of confusion at his family's reaction. No one has even wished him a merry Christmas!

Peter catches on and with his eyes averted, waves in the general direction of Walter's form. "Flying a lot low there, Walter." He jokingly points out, still too happy with Olivia's new, nausea-less condition to be upset by his father's weirdness.

The scientist looks down and checks himself at his son's words, laughing a little when he figures out the problem. "Oh." He exclaims softly, as if still in shock.

"Oh!" He laughs before mercifully disappearing from sight, presumably to get dressed. Elizabeth buries her face in her hands as Olivia turns to him with fingers cautiously splayed across her eyes, obscuring most of her vision.

"Are we safe?" She questions in a hushed tone, utterly serious. Peter grins and nods, seemingly not quite all here as he tucks into his bacon and chuckles to himself.

"It's Tuesday," He mutters in between continuous fits of quiet, convulsive laughter. "Christmas on a Tuesday."

It doesn't take long for the women to remember the worst of all Walterisms, as Astrid has started calling them. A tradition of sorts upheld by Walter and feared by everyone in the vicinity.

Naked Tuesdays.

* * *

They exchange presents after breakfast – something that would have been impossible to convince both Bishop boys to do just ten years ago – and finally, Walter reaches for the last gift and with shaking hands and a hopeful smile, hands it to both Peter and Olivia. It's medium-sized and feels suspiciously light, a traditional red box finished with a large green bow to boot, just like in the movies. A tiny slip tucked under the bow brings a smile to the faces of both parents-to-be.

_Baby Bishop_

_- Your grandfather, Dr. Walter Bishop._

Peter shakes his head with an amused smile while Olivia traces her fingers over the words _Baby Bishop _with an almost reverent look in her eyes.

"Go on then," Walter urges, barely able to contain his excitement as he bounces and jiggles in place. Elizabeth watches on with a smile as Olivia pulls softly at the bow and lifts the lid.

Inside, on top of what seems to be a large bundle of fabric, resting on a layer of wrapping tissue, she finds a teeny tiny pair of socks, red and green and white. Leaning into Peter to allow him a better look, she picks up a sock with shaking hands and rests it in her palm. The sock is smaller than her palm. Her baby's feet will be smaller than her palms.

Peter, who sits just behind her with his legs on either side of her, reaches for her free hand and laces their fingers together. Olivia seems transfixed by the tiny Christmas-themed sock until she feels his hand in hers and snaps her eyes to Walter.

"Thank you, Walter." She smiles, sounding a little too emotional.

"I just thought you would want to be prepared, and who doesn't love Christmas? There's more inside but I made these myself! Elizabeth taught me, of course." He adds proudly, beaming at his wife.

"It took a good while," She teases him.

"Those blasted guidelines were indecipherable!" Walter cries in defense of himself as the other tree laugh good-naturedly. He doesn't join them but eventually grins at the absurdity of it all. Those darned illustrations weren't even correctly proportioned! A little color might have helped.

Olivia looks down at the tiny knitted sock in her hand again and so does Peter. She leans into his chest and curls into him with a smile.

"We're having a baby." She whispers, her eyes bright and dancing with joy. Peter rests his chin on her head and raises their linked hands to rest on her stomach.

"We're having a baby." He grins, holding her close.

"And we're having a grandchild!" Walter suddenly exclaims, jumping to his feet and pulling a stunned Elizabeth to hers to spin her around in a dance known only to him.

Peter laughs, watching his parents dance around the cramped living room while Olivia goes through the tiny clothes in the box, all so heartbreakingly small that she can't help but worry.

How is she going to protect someone that precious, that_ fragile_?

* * *

Not long after, Elizabeth and Walter leave for their usual Christmas Day drive around town, something Walter insists on like clockwork each Christmas afternoon.

Olivia waves them off as they drive away and heads for the living room. She sits down and flips through the channels, looking for something that will hold her attention long enough to keep her from having a nervous breakdown.

Her baby, the little life inside of her, is small and breakable and so, so precious. And even now, with her child safely inside of her, somewhat protected from the outside world, she can't help but worry constantly. So what happens when her baby comes out into this horrible, terrible world of theirs? She and Peter had obviously not thought this through when they had talked about picket fences and puppies and children. They had somehow – conveniently - forgotten what it is they do for a living, being on the frontlines against the worst horrors imaginable.

Peter hands her a warm mug of hot chocolate and sits down next to her, draping an arm around her shoulder. When she merely shoots him a weak smile in thanks, his brows furrow in concern.

"Liv?"

"I'm fine, Peter." She assures him, well familiar with his 'I'm worried' look. "Look, _Buddy the Elf_." She points out with exaggerated enthusiasm, earning herself a laugh and a frown-free Peter.

"How many times have we watched this, again?"

"Hmm," She muses. "Only once, I think. A few years back it was snowing really badly and your parents were around, so we stayed down and watched this with them." Walter had pouted his way through the afternoon, muttering about 'the bloody weather' and 'damned snow'. Elizabeth had made him an extra-large mug of hot chocolate overflowing with marshmallows and they had settled down in front of the TV, hoping to get Walter out of his funk. When Elizabeth had called out for Peter and Olivia to join them, they'd been left with no choice. Spending all day upstairs would have been too suspicious, and so they had plastered on polite smiles and watched movies with Peter's parents well into the evening.

"In total," Peter specifies. "I think I've watched this at least five times on my own." Olivia raises an eyebrow in skepticism, simultaneously trying to get more information on everything Peter's done 'on his own' for the past ten years. She has a rough idea and enough knowledge not to be painfully curious or suspicious of him, but Peter has always avoided discussing his life for the past decade with her, ever since he walked out that summer day.

"Let me guess: with a bunch of losers in your man cave while you tried to finish up whatever spiked eggnog you'd brought back from home?"

Peter chuckles, setting his own mug down on the coffee table. "Actually, it was in my rundown one-room apartment with no one for company and brownies."

"Brownies?"

"Walter said they'd last longer that way." He clarifies with an amused laugh and Olivia nods understandingly. It takes her a few seconds to respond to Peter's admission of the fact that he'd spent the last few days of each year cooped up in an apartment on his own watching holiday specials. She's always wondered what Peter was up to, especially in the days after Christmas, after he left her.

"I don't get it." She admits with a shrug and a smile. "Why spend the last few days after Christmas all alone in an apartment watching _Buddy the Elf_?" She presses for more.

"Let's not forget _A Christmas Carol_. Oh, and _A Charlie Brown Christmas_. They _do _have more than one Christmas movie, 'Livia." He teases her, swiping a TV guide from the coffee table to place on her lap. She scowls and bats it away, focusing her attention on staring at Peter. It isn't long before he starts squirming and explains himself.

"I was depressed, okay?" He finally admits. "I'd just spent all year waiting to see you, and then I had less than two days – most of which were spent sharing you with my family – and now I was alone for the whole year all over again because I just didn't have the balls to tell you that I wanted more."

She's taken aback by the fierceness and self-loathing in his voice and lays a hand on his chest. "Peter," She calls to him in a soft, soothing tone. "It wasn't all your fault, Peter. I…" She hesitates before figuring what the heck, there's nothing to lose now that they're actually together, now that she knows he's always felt the same way. "I wanted more, too. But I just couldn't tell you, or ask you to move back because I knew, I just knew that if and when you and I got together, that would be it. I would be done for life. But I didn't know if you felt the same way and the thought, the possibility of us being together and not working out, of ruining everything, it just… I was terrified." She confesses, keeping her eyes averted. She's never told him that – that she's done, she's with him and she's settled and that's that – in so many words.

"'Livia," Peter rasps, sounding choked up. She turns to him to find that he's dropped his face in his hands. "God, this is all my fault. I shouldn't have left, I never should have left Boston and home and _you_."

"Why, Peter?" She questions desperately, surprising both of them. This isn't Olivia. Olivia is the one who tells you not to blame yourself, who clears you of guilt, who comforts you and soothes you and forgives you even if she insists there's nothing to forgive. But she can't, not anymore, not after ten years of not knowing. She still remembers it, the day he left. She remembers waking up with dried tear tracks on her cheeks and a smile on her lips, more content than she'd ever been. She remembers waking up in Peter's room, in Peter's shirt, in Peter's bed. She remembers getting up and expecting to find his arms around her, and being greeted instead by a note. She remembers panicking, and jumping out of bed, and calling for him so anxiously that his parents had stormed into the room only to find what she had found: Peter was gone.

"It's been ten years, and we're together, and we're having a baby and I _still _don't know why you left. Why you left your home, your family, _me_. All I know is that one day I came home to find you shouting at Walter, and the next day you stopped calling him Dad and you just became so distant from all of us, even me. And I just knew you were leaving." She muffles a sob by pressing her hand against her lips, suddenly brought back to that dark period in their lives.

"Olivia." Peter sighs heavily, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I… God, I'm sorry."

"You promised, Peter." She accuses weakly, sounding just like her nine-year-old self. "You promised you would never leave me and just when everything was changing and we were supposed to go out and live in the real world… you just left. I was lost without you." She admits.

"I'm sorry, 'Livia." He repeats into her hair over and over again. "I just… it's a long story, 'Liv. And I promise I'll tell you about it. But when I found out… I was just _so _angry at Walter, and myself. I _hated _myself and I just couldn't live with it, knowing what I'd done… what Walter had done to you because of me. I had to leave." He pulls back and locks his eyes on hers.

"But I came back, Olivia. I came back eventually, for you. And this time, nothing is going to take me away. I'll never leave you. Never again." He vows determinedly, thinking of Olivia and their baby and how he would never forgive himself if he ever had to walk away from them.

Olivia looks at him for the longest time, searching for something in his eyes, eyes that hold nothing but love and adoration and unwavering determination. And she knows, whether it's because of them or their baby, Peter will never leave her again. And that's enough, as long as she knows that. It doesn't matter that she doesn't know what made him leave, what he's talking about, what Walter did to her. They'll talk about it someday. But for now, all she can do is accept his promise and let him hold her.

"Okay." She sighs softly, tucking her head under his neck.

"Okay."

* * *

Walter and Elizabeth come home to find the young couple dozing on the couch, credits rolling across the screen that illuminates the dark living room. With matching smiles, they tiptoe into the kitchen where Elizabeth starts working on dinner preparations immediately.

"They look adorable." She sighs happily over a bubbling pot as Walter pulls out the turkey they'd set out last night.

He nods. "It's good that they're catching up on sleep." He adds with a knowing grin and Elizabeth shakes her head indulgently at her husband's comment.

"They're young and in love, Walter. Let them be." She chides with a laugh, knowing just what her husband is talking about. Peter and Olivia have probably perfected the art of being quiet, but Peter's old, squeaky bed had kept the elderly couple up all night.

"I'm happy for them, Elizabeth." He finally says, looking out to catch a glimpse of his son's head peeking out from over the back of the sofa, outlined by the bright screen. "So happy."

Elizabeth smiles and walks into her husband's arms, letting him hold her as they observe their son with the woman they've always known as the one for him. "Me too," She pats his hand affectionately. They go back to preparing dinner, giving Peter and Olivia some privacy and time to rest in peace.

Until Walter accidentally blows something up with a loud _bang_, waking up Peter, Olivia and any other sleeping soul on their street.

* * *

That night they gather in the living room with mugs of hot chocolate and warm pastry, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. Peter and Olivia have been holding a hushed discussion while Walter reminisces and talks of Christmasses past, and when he comes to a stop, they look up with excited smiles.

"So…" Peter begins, drawing his parents' attention. "'Livia and I have been looking at houses, trying to find a place before the baby comes."

"Oh, that's wonderful." Elizabeth smiles encouragingly as Walter suddenly loses his smile.

"And you still won't live with us." He pouts, still a little upset.

"No, Walter, we won't." Peter smiles. "But we might live _near _you. Say, across the street." He says nonchalantly. Walter's eyes snap to his son's.

"Near us?" He asks hopefully as Elizabeth places a hand on his arm, waiting for Peter's answer.

Olivia speaks up. "We haven't exactly found a place just yet, and we'd still have to look into preschools but-"

"That's the plan." Peter finishes, sharing a smile with Olivia.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" Walter turns to his wife. "Did you hear that? They might live near us! We could see them every day!"

"You already see us every day, Walter." Peter points out dryly. "We work together, remember?"

"Yes, but this will be different, son!" He exclaims impatiently before turning back to Elizabeth. "Oh, and we could bring the baby to that park, the one we used to take the kids to, and we could drop her off at school and babysit and-"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Walter." Elizabeth advises gently even though she's already thinking of all the time she'll be spending with her grandchild, raising her in the same neighborhood her parents were raised.

"Peter, Olivia," She addresses the young couple who seem just as excited over the possibility of returning here. "This is wonderful," She gushes. "Just wonderful news."

"We'll be a big, happy family!" Walter announces and goes right back to musing out loud, talking about the many things they'll all do together. His family indulges him and even plays along, idly pitching in with ideas for activities and days out. When the clock strikes eleven, Elizabeth gently interrupts Walter and tells him it's time for bed, and though Walter fusses and stalls, it isn't long before they're climbing up the stairs, leaving Peter and Olivia alone.

They stand up and stretch out their sore limbs before Olivia starts gathering used mugs and carries them to the kitchen, setting them down in the sink.

"I'll do it, 'Livia." Peter offers hurriedly as she starts rinsing out the cups and Olivia laughs him off.

"I can wash a few dishes, Peter. Our baby isn't going to end up with dry hands." She jokes as he comes to stand behind her.

"But you will." Peter says, his lips close to her neck. His hands press against her waist as they reach out and replace hers, making quick work of the few mugs they'd used. Long after they're done, they remain pressed against the sink, with Peter trapping Olivia in place as his hands wrap around her waist.

"I love you," He says suddenly, lightly pressing his hand to her stomach. "And our baby, who is going to be just like her mother."

"Or maybe _he_ will be just like his father." She retorts, resting her hand over his.

"If you really want a Bishop boy so much, we could just try again after our little girl." Peter suggests casually. Olivia laughs dismissively.

"As soon as they figure out how to get men pregnant." She promises as Peter frowns into her neck.

"Just you wait until you see our perfect little baby. She'll be so perfect that it would be a crime for us to procreate only once, Dunham. And we'll end up with a tribe of little Bishops, only better because they'd be smart and strong just like Mommy. And blonde. Everyone knows that's better." He jokes, lifting a hand to push aside her curtain of light hair.

"I don't know," Olivia says, squirming in his arms until she can turn around to look at him. A hand lodges itself in his hair, fingers running through the dark curls she's always associated with Peter "I'm kind of partial to this." She tells him with a grin.

"A whole tribe of little Bishops, Liv." He suggests again. "Some of them will look like you and some of them will look like me, and some will look like both of us."

"Just how many do you think I'm popping out, Bishop?" She questions with a serious look on her face.

"As many as you want, sweetheart." He smiles sweetly, giving her a good answer. Olivia nods, satisfied, and pushes her way out of his arms only to hold a hand out to him.

"I think I'm ready for bed." She announces and he laces their fingers together as they walk out of the kitchen, ready to call it a day. They roam around the house in silence until Peter comes to an abrupt halt just shy of the stairs, pulling Olivia to a stop.

"What is it?" She turns around, looking at him before following his eyes upward… to the tiny sprig of mistletoe someone – Walter, most likely – had hung just two steps away from the stairs. "Oh." She breathes, looking down and meeting Peter's smiling eyes.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart." He grins, giving her no warning before he pulls her in, crashing his lips to hers under the mistletoe. She throws her hands around his neck, reciprocating despite her initial surprise. When air becomes a necessity, as it frequently does, she pulls back just enough to press her forehead against his, both of them still holding each other as they both breathe rapidly. A smile lights up Olivia's face as she regains her breath and looks into his bright, familiar eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Peter."

* * *

**~ MERRY CHRISTMAS! ~**

* * *

**So yeah, I Googled 'morning sickness remedies' and ended up with about ten articles and a hundred-odd suggestions. Only one stood out: licorice. Yes, some people believe licorice alleviates the symptoms of morning sickness and even though I've never heard of this, you just know I had to work it in somehow.**

**Sorry for the delay, everyone. I had planned to do all of my writing and get the stories up by the 27****th**** at the latest, but an unexpected condition had me spending my time in a hospital instead. My (body's) bad! This chapter is a little longer and more substantial than usual, so I hope that makes up for it.**

**Once more, I had a bit of trouble picking out a title and ended up with 'Merry Christmas, Peter' as a parallel of sorts to last year's third and final chapter, 'Merry Christmas, Olivia.'**

**Well, that's that for this year, folks. I hope the Bishops' Christmas experience was a fun story for all of you and that your Christmas was just as fun, if not more. Or Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus. I think I celebrated a little of everything.**

**In terms of this AU and my plans for it, I'm hoping to write a full prequel next year, starting from when Peter and Olivia first met (as shown on the series) up to the day Peter left after their high school graduation. As for current events, I will definitely be returning to this storyline. Right now I'm torn between writing a full, multi-chapter story that follows Olivia's pregnancy or sticking with holiday specials – we've done Christmas, Halloween and Thanksgiving so far – but rest assured that this is not the last of fluffy Polivia. Or it might be, because soon enough it'll be fluffy Polivietta.**

**I'm still accepting Christmas presents so… review maybe?**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**December 2012.**_


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